Life After Death
by Patalena
Summary: Jonathan Van Helsing has always known which side he was on in the war between slayers and vampires, until a fateful encounter with an old enemy changes everything. Eric is caught between his loyalty to family and his commitment to the Slayers Guild. AU after series 2. Rated for violence, dark themes, contains character deaths.


**A/N: This story is rated 'M' for dark themes, violence, and character deaths. There is some sexual content but nothing explicit.**

**This is a story that I started writing in September 2011 and which has been sitting on my computer waiting to be finished. It has become extremely AU (more so than it was originally) since the last two seasons of Young Dracula have aired, though I have used some details from the new episodes.**

**Before the story begins I should explain that this is written in the first person perspective from the points of view of Eric and Jonathan Van Helsing. I did this because I'm the kind of person who likes to crawl into the characters' heads and poke their brains with a stick to see what makes them tick, metaphorically speaking. I'll sometimes write parts of the story in the first person and then convert them to third person. I was going to do that with this story, but then as an experiment I thought I'd write it all in the first person. Character names will appear in bold to indicate when the point of view changes.**

**Another difference between this story and my previous ones is I'm finally attempting to use British English since it is first-person. I've done my best to get it right, but I'm rather new to this so please forgive me if I make mistakes. If there's a glaring error I welcome readers to contact me and let me know what needs to be fixed.**

**On the topic of communication, I'm always grateful for feedback. I love reviews because they help me gauge readers' reactions to the story. If anyone wants to contact me with a question or comment but doesn't want to leave a public review, please don't hesitate to send me a PM. **

**I can't promise regular updates, but I will do my best to add new chapters as often as I can. **

**Okay, that's enough of my talking for now. I hope you enjoy the story.**

* * *

_From the journal of Jonathan Van Helsing_

2 June 2021

This is the first time I've found myself completely at a loss for words. I used to be able to sit down with my personal journal and record the events of the day with very little thought, but I suppose times were different then. I must make the effort, yet it pains me to write these words knowing that this will be my final entry.

After staring at a blank page for the last half hour I don't think I can write about what happened tonight. I've been given more chances than I deserved, and though I tried to cling to the way things used to be, it is time for me to move on to whatever comes next. For several weeks I've sensed evil lurking, steadily growing stronger like dark storm clouds gathering in the distance. I've seen the warning signs of what's to come, and to put it simply, I'm terrified.

I have no idea what will become of me, and more than ever I find myself asking how I got to this point. How did all this happen, and more importantly, why did it happen to me? I mean, when I was nine years old I wanted to be a diplomat so I could try to help bring peace to the world. I certainly didn't expect to grow up to be a vampire slayer, and I never imagined that my life would be spent fighting a war which I was, regrettably, partially responsible for starting. It's incredible how life can turn out so differently from what we planned. Sometimes it can seem like guidance from a higher power, but usually it's more like a sick joke played on us by fate. For me it was definitely the latter.

Looking back now, I don't think there was ever a time when vampires were not a part of my life. My mother told me that from the minute my father first laid eyes on me he declared that I would grow up to be a vampire slayer just like him. It didn't matter that there wasn't a shred of evidence to prove the existence of vampires, Dad always insisted vampires were real and that he was descended from a long line of vampire slayers who dedicated their lives to fighting the forces of evil. Naturally Mum thought this was nothing more than an elaborate fantasy. She tried to discourage him, but once Dad got it into his head that someone was a vampire he would become obsessed with trying to slay them. Thankfully, he never actually harmed anyone, but there were a few close calls. When I was a baby my dad put garlic in my nursery to ward off vampires, and when I got older he would read me bedtime stories about heroic slayers destroying undead monsters. I enjoyed the stories, but by the time I started school I knew vampires weren't any more real than unicorns, Mum made sure of that.

Vampires, or rather my dad's obsession with them was the reason my mother left him. I chose to stay with Dad, and promised Mum that I would look after him. I hoped that I could help keep him grounded in reality and out of trouble. If I succeeded then perhaps one day Mum would agree to come back and we could be a family again.

Dad and I lived in a caravan, moving from one town to the next whenever Dad got a new job. It isn't easy always being the new kid in school and trying to make new friends, especially when your dad is one of the teachers. What made matters worse was that it was never long before Dad spotted a 'vampire'. Perhaps there was a goth student in his woodwork class, or a father at parents' night who was a bit too pale. One time it was a maths teacher who moved away from Dad when he sat down at a table in the teachers' lounge with one of his infamous garlic sandwiches, and who could blame him? The stench of those sandwiches was so powerful it could linger in a room for hours. Sooner or later one of Dad's crazy plans would get him sacked and he would have to find another school to work at. I wished Dad would give up all the slaying nonsense, or at least stop trying to drag me into it. More than anything I wanted to stay in one place and live a normal life.

When we arrived in Stokely I thought that this time, just maybe, things would be different. Unfortunately it took Dad less than a day to find another 'vampire' in the form of Vlad Count, a boy who had recently come to Stokely from Transylvania and lived in a castle on top of the hill overlooking the town. As far as I could tell, there was no way Vlad could be a vampire. He was one of the most normal people in school, so it was quite a shock when I finally discovered that Vlad Count was actually Vladimir Dracula, son of the infamous Count Dracula.

My father had been right all along. So I had to make a choice... to ignore what I had seen and pretend that nothing had changed, or to accept the duty of a slayer as generations of Van Helsings had done before me. Soon after I committed to being a slayer my dad gave me my first slayer's journal as a gift to commemorate the beginning of what we both hoped would be a long and productive career.

Looking at all these pages that I've filled with the records of the places I've seen and the vampires I've slain, I wonder why I continued to keep a journal for all these years. It's not as if I ever read through my old diaries to reminisce. As soon as I reach the end of a journal I put it on my bookshelf with all the rest and never open it again. Maybe I wrote because I thought there was a possibility of one day being remembered for my contributions to the Slayers Guild. When I first started slaying vampires I never assumed my name would be one for the history books, but there was some appeal in knowing there was a written record of what I had done, just in case.

Now I can only hope that I will be lucky enough to simply pass into obscurity, though I doubt that will be the case. No, I will be remembered. Years from now, probably long after I'm gone, the instructors at the Slayers Guild will tell my story as a cautionary tale to the new recruits. They will use words like weakness, coward, traitor, perhaps even monster, because that is how they see me despite all I've done for them.

If I could speak to the young slayers who will hear my story, I would tell them this: Never underestimate a vampire. It will be the worst – and possibly last – mistake you'll ever make. Just ask anyone whose life has been destroyed by one of them, like mine was.

I never thought it would end like this.

* * *

**Jonathan**

"Any minute now…" Dad murmured, lifting his binoculars to look up at the castle.

For the last twenty minutes we had waited, watching from the ruins for signs of vampire activity. The decaying stone structures provided decent cover and a vantage point from which we could see most of the castle. We were standing side by side on a ledge behind one of the crumbling walls. I propped my elbows up on top of the wall and looked through my binoculars.

Normally the first signs of life stirred within the castle when the sun's light was nothing more than a blood-red glow on the horizon. Sure enough, a flicker of movement in a small arched window caught my attention, and I focused my binoculars on the window just as a small brown bat flew through it and into the open air. "There!" I said in a hushed whisper. "To the right above the door."

"I see it, Jonno!"

I counted a total of three bats leaving the castle, first one then two more a minute later – Ingrid, the Count, and Vlad – flapping and wheeling through the air as they flew towards the centre of town. They were off to hunt some poor unwitting humans, no doubt.

When the bats disappeared into the distance we climbed down from the ledge and located the secret entrance to the castle. Dad pushed the loose stone in the wall to open the hidden door and we made our way inside. It wasn't our first secret visit to the castle; we had broken in several times in the past. Dad had recently ordered some new surveillance equipment on the internet for spying on the Draculas. With twenty-four hour audio and visual surveillance inside the castle we would know the vampires' every move without leaving our secret slayers' HQ.

I was attaching a tiny wireless microphone to the back of Count Dracula's throne and Dad was hiding a camera in the helmet of a suit of armour when we heard a faint cry that sounded like it came from the tower. We both froze in our tracks, suddenly aware that we were not as alone as we thought. The castle should have been empty of vampires, so who was in the tower... Renfield? Dad put a finger to his lips, signalling me to be quiet as he listened for any other sounds. He carefully closed the visor on the suit of armour before waving for me to follow him.

We crept up to the tower as quickly and as quietly as we could, keeping close to the rough stone wall of the winding staircase. It was nearly impossible to see where we were going in the darkness. Upon reaching the room at the top we found the door ajar. A thin shaft of faint yellow light spilled out onto the landing. There was definitely someone in there, so we cautiously moved close to the door and peered inside at the two male figures in the centre of the room. I took a guess that it was Vlad who sat on the floor cradling the limp body of Robin Branagh in his arms. Vlad was facing us but he was hunched over the other boy's neck with his head down so we couldn't see his face. Robin's head had fallen back and his eyes were closed. A wet suckling sound reached my ears and I swore quietly before I could stop myself. That freak was _feeding_ from Branagh.

Vlad's head snapped up to look at us and light from the candles fell upon his face. I could see blood around his mouth. His face contorted as he hissed at us, fangs bared and eyes black as onyx.

With any element of surprise we might have had now gone, Dad threw the door open all the way and stormed into the room, exclaiming, "You've killed him!"

In the time it took to blink, Vlad's face returned to its usual human form. He held up one blood-stained hand in a gesture for us to stay away. "This isn't what it looks like. He's still alive."

"He'd better be, bloodsucker!" I said, taking a stake from the holder on my belt as I stepped forward to stand beside my dad.

His eyes lingering on Branagh's pale face, Vlad raised his wrist to his mouth as though about to bite into his own veins. Dad drew a wooden cross from within his coat and held it out at Vlad, snarling, "Get back, unholy creature!" We had heard mixed reports of the effect of religious symbols on vampires – that they only worked in some cases. Luckily for us, the moment Vlad saw the cross he cringed and seemed to have difficulty looking in our direction. At least it distracted him from his task. Dad confidently marched forward holding the cross out before him, forcing Vlad to retreat into a corner of the room and leave Branagh lying on the floor.

I knelt beside Robin, fighting back nausea at the sight. Blood covered the left side of his neck and saturated his shirt, while some of it was smeared up to his face and in his tousled hair. Trying not to be sick, I pressed against the bite with the palm of my hand in an attempt to stem the bleeding. His blood was warm and slick against my skin. I felt for his pulse with my other hand, but had difficulty finding it while my hands shook and my own heart pounded loudly in my chest. I could hear my dad say to Vlad, "I thought you were friends with Branagh… but I see no one is safe from your bloodlust."

Vlad replied, "It's not like that, I was going to turn him. He wants to be a vampire." That much was probably true. After all, Robin always had an unnatural affinity for vampires.

I finally found Robin's pulse but it was weak. For someone trying to turn a human into a vampire, Vlad took a lot of blood. He only needed to bite a person to turn them. The resulting transformation would take longer than a direct blood exchange, but it would have done the job. Perhaps he lost control. Branagh looked like he was on the verge of death.

"How is he?" Dad asked over his shoulder while still keeping his eyes on Vlad.

Robin was barely breathing; the rise and fall of his chest was almost imperceptible. It seemed unlikely he would survive. "Not good," I reported. "He's lost a lot of blood…"

"Let me go! I can save him!" Vlad shouted in desperation. "Please!" I wondered if he could hear Branagh's heart beginning to falter. All the colour had drained from him, making the red blood stand out in stark contrast against his ashen skin.

"Turning him into an abomination won't save him. We're saving him from a fate worse than death," Dad replied, taking his mobile phone from his pocket with his free hand while continuing to hold Vlad at bay with the cross. "He needs an ambulance."

Before he could dial the numbers I felt Branagh's heart stall. "Dad…" I said, my shaking voice effectively getting his attention. He looked over his shoulder at me as I removed my hand from the bite. The bleeding had stopped. My fingers were still resting against his pulse point but I couldn't feel a pulse anymore. "I think he's dead."

"No!" Vlad shouted, and the castle quaked around us, rattling everything in the room and causing bits of the ceiling to shake loose and rain down on us. The cross in my father's hand crumbled to dust and Vlad flew to Branagh's side opposite me. "Robin?" he called, pulling the boy's lifeless body into his lap again as I got to my feet and backed away. Vlad wasted no time. With one swift movement he bit the inside of his wrist and held it to Branagh's parted lips, murmuring, "Drink, Robin, please drink." He refused to believe the boy was dead, though it was obviously too late. Thick dark blood dripped down Robin's slackened jaw. I watched, frozen in in place by the sight of Vlad's futile attempts to force his blood into Branagh's mouth.

Dad's hand grabbing my arm jarred me from my trance as he hissed, "Run!"

We raced out of the castle and down the hill as if the hounds of hell were after us, but I knew we couldn't outrun a vampire. With each step I expected claw-like hands to grab me from behind and drag me to the ground for the kill. That thought spurred me to run even faster. Somehow we made it down to the bottom of the hill where we had parked the car. Dad dug into his pocket for the keys, his hands shaking violently as he tried to fit the key into the lock. He finally succeeded in unlocking the car and we jumped in. He fumbled with the key again before turning the ignition and putting the car into gear. As we sped away I twisted around to look out the rear window for any sign of Vlad pursuing us. I was sure he would come after us once he realised his best friend was dead, so where was he?

Back at the caravan we stumbled through the door and slammed it behind us, sweating and still out of breath after running for our lives. We were safe. No vampire could enter a human dwelling without permission, and we had no intention of asking Vlad in for a cup of tea.

My mother had been watching a dance competition on our small television set, but she looked up when we rushed through the door. "What on earth is going on?" she asked in bewilderment.

"No time… no time to explain…" said Dad, pushing himself away from the door. He opened one of the cabinets and pulled out everything inside, strewing it across the floor. We got a larger caravan when Mum came back a few years ago, and Dad made sure slaying equipment was carefully hidden but never far away. Mum and Dad had recently started discussing the possibility of buying a house to live in, like we used to before they separated. Mum thought it would help give us a sense of stability in our lives. Dad thought it would give us more places to hide slaying weapons from Mum.

Now she watched Dad frantically emptying our possessions onto the floor with no idea what he was looking for or why. "Eric, what are you doing?" When Dad didn't answer she looked to me for an explanation, and her face paled. "Is that blood?" I looked down at my hands, still red with Branagh's blood. It had begun to dry into a sticky coating on my skin.

"It's not mine."

That wasn't the right answer, because Mum's eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Then whose is it?"

I opened my mouth to respond, but didn't know what to say. There was no way I could tell her the truth about being at the castle, because no matter what I said she would want to know more... more than I'd be able to tell her without sounding insane. Eventually I stammered, "There was an accident…"

Meanwhile Dad had removed a false panel at the back of the cabinet, revealing a collection of garlic juice vials, crosses, and stakes. "Hold this," he said, handing Mum a stake.

She stared at the stake for a moment in disbelief before slamming it down on the nearest countertop and shouting, "That's it! I demand an explanation, Eric!"

Dad stood up to face her again with a cross in one hand and a flask of garlic juice in the other. "Vampires."

There went our chance of getting out of this without Mum thinking we'd gone completely mad. "Oh, not again!" She shook her head in exasperation.

"It's true, Mum," I said. "Vlad Count is a vampire. His whole family are vampires."

Mum's expression softened as she looked at me. "You believe this too?" I expected her to be angry with me like she was with Dad, but instead she just seemed… disappointed. She must have realized that all her attempts to make us 'see sense' had failed. Looking from my face to my blood covered hands and back again, her voice went quiet as she asked, "What have you done?" I knew it didn't look good. She must have thought I killed Vlad. If only.

"Nothing! It was Vlad—"

I was interrupted by three loud knocks at the caravan door. Dad and I looked at each other, afraid of who it might be. Mum was closest to the door and reached for the handle as Dad and I both shouted, "Don't open it!" She ignored us and opened the door anyway.

Vlad was waiting just outside, dressed in jeans and a black t-shirt and without a drop of blood on him. His eyes appeared reddened as though he had been crying, but at the same time anger seemed to radiate from him in waves. "Good evening, Mrs Van Helsing."

Mum smiled, no doubt happy to see Vlad alive and well. Before she could even think about asking Vlad inside, Dad lunged for a switch on the wall and turned on the lights attached to the outside of the caravan. He had equipped each one with a UV bulb a few months ago just in case we were ever besieged by vampires. It seemed like overkill at the time, but now it was exactly what we needed.

The outside of the caravan was immediately flooded with bright light, and Vlad let out an inhuman shriek as his skin began to sizzle and burn. Mum also screamed in horror at the sound. Vlad disappeared in a flash and reappeared several metres from the caravan, where the light couldn't touch him. We could barely see him in the glow of the moonlight.

"You'll pay for this!" he shouted at us before vanishing into the night. We were safe… for now.


End file.
